


This Time Will Be Better

by psynapple



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Discussion of non-con, F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 19:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psynapple/pseuds/psynapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s nice being able to sleep with someone and finally not feel the smallest smidgen of guilt in the back of her head. Because Gilda was good–scratch that, Gilda was great–but a girl can’t wait around forever. Not even for a smokin’ hot lady fairy, and especially not when she catches the attention of an energetic and inventive chick bent on spending the night in as many creative positions as possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Time Will Be Better

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WDIShowWriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WDIShowWriter/gifts).



> this fic contains discussions of canonical non-con (8x07).

Charlie’s been here before.

Well, not _here_ here. Not in this specific bed, in this specific hotel room. But she sure as shit has been in this situation before, waking up to the muted roar of someone else taking a shower while she debates waiting her turn or hightailing it out of there.

Not that last night wasn’t fun. It really, really was. Charlie’s been getting more ass than usual (she chalks it up to being an honorary Winchester), and this girl in particular is pretty much the whole package: blonde, a bit geeky, and, best of all, super enthusiastic. About everything. 

It’s also nice being able to sleep with someone and finally not feel the smallest smidgen of guilt in the back of her head. Because Gilda was good–scratch that, Gilda was _great_ –but a girl can’t wait around forever. Not even for a smokin’ hot lady fairy, and especially not when she catches the attention of an energetic and inventive chick bent on spending the night in as many creative positions as possible. And, like Charlie’s said before, nobody can expect her to turn all of this raging sex appeal off. Blondes may have more fun, but that’s because they get to spend their nights with redheads like her.

But she has a job to do, so the shower, and any hopes for another go at the mattress mambo, will have to wait.

She’s tugging her left sock on–gold with tiny Starfleet insignias–when she feels the bed bounce a little. A pair of damp and ambiguously-floral-smelling arms wrap around the top of her torso and she freezes. She can feel a cold nose pressing into the curve of her neck, and, how about no. That’s very uncomfortable. Charlie leans forward and hopes the girl gets the message. 

“Good morning!” The salutation is smothered by the junction between Charlie’s neck and shoulder; she doesn’t know how a mumble manages to sound so peppy.

“Morning, Becky.” Charlie prides herself on always remembering the names of the girls she sleeps with, as a rule. It’s a nice thing to do, and people are much more willing to do favors for you if you make little gestures like that.

“I have the _whole_ day planned out,” Becky says after she pulls away, walking on her knees until she’s perched on the edge of the bed, angled towards Charlie. “I know last night you said you were new to the area, so I went online–this hotel has really crappy WiFi by the way–and I Google Mapped us a route. I figured we could stop for donuts–do you like donuts? It’s fine if you don’t, I also know about this really cute little diner that does quiche, and–”

“Actually, Becky, I was thinking about leaving soon. You know, get in those early hours at the library? Gotta love books.” Charlie does a weak little jazz hand, trying to make up for the lack of enthusiasm in her voice.

“Oh.” Becky’s eyelids flutter shut for a moment and the creases around her mouth become pronounced, making her look much older than she did a few seconds ago. The illusion disappears as quickly as it came when her eyes pop open, sparkling mischievously. “Do you have time for one more round, at least?” She flops onto her back and tosses an arm above her head like she’s a girl on the cover of a YA fiction novel; Charlie winces as she hears a shoulder pop.

The whole situation deserves careful consideration. On the one hand, Sam ‘n’ Dean probably do need that info asap. On the other hand, Becky is now doing some sort of strange writhing motion on top of the pillows, and even though it shouldn’t be hot, it _totally_ is. Maybe it’s the fact that Becky’s eyes are screwed shut in concentration and her lower lip is flushed pink around the teeth that are biting into it. Maybe it’s the fact that every rhythmic gyration makes Becky’s tank top ride up, revealing a pale section of upper hip that has Charlie’s mouth watering–figuratively, of course, because she can’t think of anything worse than a drooly bed partner.

Whatever it is, Charlie makes up her mind and swings a leg over the far side of Becky’s shifting thighs, effectively halting their movement. Planting her palms above Becky’s shoulders, Charlie smoothly transitions into all-fours, bringing her face to hover right above where Becky’s eyes are laser-focused on Charlie’s mouth. 

“A-annie,” Becky stutters, her hand curling around the back of Charlie’s neck tentatively. Charlie shivers at the light brush of smooth skin and a hint of ragged nail. Right. Annie Tolkein. That’s who she was last night. She transfers her weight to the heels of her hands and pushes, sliding her body down the bed until she’s level with Becky’s navel. She breaths lightly, waits for the goosebumps she knows will come, then s-l-o-w-l-y lowers her lips until–

_“If there’s something strange/in your neighborhood...”_

“青蛙操的流氓,” Charlie swears under her breath. That’s her phone; the ringtone means it’s Dean, probably calling to check on her progress. New rule: when the mattress starts swinging, don’t come a’ringing. She sits up and leans over to snatch her phone off the bedside table and unlocks it with a little more force than usual. Becky wiggles out from under her and sits up against the headboard.

“Hey–”

“Dean, so help me missing-God, if this is not vital information about the case I will end you.” 

“Am I interrupting something?” 

She knows _Dean_ knows full well he’s interrupting something. “I’m not giving you the deets, creep. Suffice to say I was thiiiis close to boarding the train to Sexytown.” 

“Say no more. Go rock that girl’s world; I’ll call you back later.” His smirk is practically audible.

“Thanks, dude. Give my best to Sam.”

Dean starts to reply–probably with some lame innuendo–but his response is cut off.

“Wait. Is that _Dean Winchester_?” Becky stage whispers, her voice turning croaky. Charlie half-expects her to start vibrating where she sits like one of those starlet chihuahuas. Clapping a hand over her phone’s mic, she leans in toward Becky’s anxious face. 

“You know Dean?” she asks, curious. 

“Do I know Dean?” Becky scoffs. “Are Sherlock Holmes and John Watson totally gay for each other?”

“That depends on what source material you’re–” Charlie breaks off. “You know what, I don’t have time to get into this.” She removes her hand from the phone. 

“Hey, Dean, there’s a Becky here who says she knows you.” Charlie’s mouth curls up into a half-smile; she’s hoping Becky is an ex-girlfriend, or someone similar so she has something to razz Dean about. The response she gets–a choked-off growl and a harsh _get out of there_ –is more than she bargains for. Is this girl some sort of demon? Did Charlie literally land herself the one-night-stand from hell?

“What’s the deal?” Charlie asks, turning away from Becky to give herself an illusion of privacy. Already she’s reviewing all the exorcisms she knows off the top of her head, which is a distressingly low number.

“What’s the deal?” Dean’s voice is more gravelly than normal and it sounds strained, like Dean is trying his hardest not to start shouting. “Nothing, only that last time we saw her she fuckin’ _drugged_ Sam and turned him into a love-zombie. Get rid of her.” The sound cuts off then, indicating that Dean was so aggravated that he hung up.

“Oh, shit.” Charlie’s eyes widen and she starts to scoot backward, the coverlet rumpling beneath her and slowing her retreat. She turns back to face the woman sitting next to her. “You’re _that_ Becky.” 

“Oops?” Any higher pitched and Becky’s voice would be inaudible to the human ear. Her fingers are dancing around the hem of her wrinkled skirt, plucking at it and making it bounce minutely up and down her thighs. She must be able to guess what Dean said.

“Shit shit shit.” Charlie tunes Becky out. “You bought me a drink.” She runs over the events of the last twenty-four hours, checking for any suspicious time lapses in her memory. She thinks it’s all accounted for, but how would she know? Maybe that’s just her potion-addled brain lying to her.

“Annie, stop,” Becky says. There’s a rough tone to her voice that is at odds with the gentle hand she places on the blanket next to Charlie’s thigh. “Don’t freak out. I–I’m not like that. Anymore.” Charlie stares mutely back at her and Becky looks down at her knees. “I take it you’ve found the latest books online?”

Charlie manages a small mmhm.

“As if Chuck didn’t make my life hard enough,” Becky says with a small laugh. She’s silent for a full thirty seconds after that. Charlie keeps waiting for an explanation, but there’s none forthcoming.

“There’s no excuse for what I did, okay?” Becky says all in a rush. She swings her legs to the floor, stands up, and starts pacing. “I _know_ that. I mean, I could say I was lonely, but so what? Tons of people are lonely, and they do just fine with cats or whatever. And yeah, my reunion was happening, but there are, I don’t know, escort services. Or I could have made up a boyfriend, though nobody would have believed me.” She wraps her arms around her waist and curls in on herself. “I was a real idiot, and Sam got caught in the crossfire. And I can’t even say sorry because there’s no way he’d ever speak to me again.”

Charlie sits back and lets this wash over her. Becky’s right, of course. There’s absolutely no excuse for her actions; what she did was gross and, frankly, unforgivable. But her regret seems genuine enough; there are even tears forming in the corner of her eyes. And Charlie can’t help but think it would be a shame to let all that well-intentioned energy go to waste. She stands and assesses Becky with a critical eye. If Becky’s really sorry, then–

“You want to make it better?” 

“More than anything.” Becky’s hands clench into fists.

“Give me a hand with my assignment,” Charlie declares, making a split-second decision. “The boys need me to track down the last copy of some musty old lore book. It’s a small start, but maybe it’ll grease a few wheels. No promises.”

“Annie, that would be amazing–”

“First things first,” Charlie says, squaring her shoulders and drawing herself up to her full height. The extra inch lends her authority. “It’s not Annie anymore. It’s Charlie.” Becky opens her mouth on a sharp little inhale, then closes it again when Charlie tightens her mouth in annoyance. “Second things second: no interrupting me when I speak. I run a tight ship.” Becky nods and mimes zipping her lips. “Thirdly: I’m not going behind Dean’s back on this one. Next time he calls, I’m filling him in on everything. He says you go, you go.”

“Can you tell him to give my regards to Sam?”

“Yeah, no,” Charlie says with a little shake of her head. “I don’t think that would go over so well.”

Becky sighs. “I know. I just want him to know I’ve changed. And that I still care about him.”

“Didn’t you just say you’re done crossing the creepy line?”

“I know what boundaries are, An–Charlie.” Charlie cocks a disbelieving eyebrow. “Well, I know _now_.”

“Yeah, well, telling a guy you love-potioned that you, quote, ‘still care about him’, end quote, is kind of sketchy. It reeks of future transgressions.”

“It’s not like that!” Becky protests. “I’m over him in _that_ way, honest. The last year or so has kind of put me off of the Winchesters. Turns out all I needed was a little more life experience to find my own way. Sexually speaking.” She draws out the word ‘sexually’, wiggling her eyebrows. “Besides, my dealer got put in an eternal time-out, so it’s not like I could get more elixir even if I wanted to.”

“Not funny.”

“Yeah,” Becky mutters. “I realized that after I said it.”

“Wrong order,” Charlie says. “We’ll work on that.”

“Hey, does this mean you’re sticking around?” Becky asks, brightening. “We can totally hit up that diner now!” She claps her hands in excitement and tugs on Charlie’s wrist. “C’mon, partner!”

Charlie’s not sure what she just roped herself into. However this ends, it’s gonna be interesting.

**Author's Note:**

> title from andy lange's song, though the plot is not related 
> 
> i lifted the chinese charlie speaks straight from a list of best firefly swears, so sorry if there's an error there


End file.
